same old street, it's raining light
when will i suspend my sight?
powerless, yet still up for a fight
when all is wrong, just turn right

same old street, it's always night
when will i suspend my flight?
powerless, enshrouded by fright
when all is wrong, just write.

we always went the same route
six-thirty in the afternoon
we'll both be on our way home
riding orange-tainted jeepneys

and i never really paid attention
to the parked cars along our way
like how i never paid attention
to everything you say

i was on the same route
six-thirty in the afternoon
i was on my way home
this time, alone

love? staged.
lust? strange.

the poet is dead after finishing his poem

do you remember when
all that mattered was
holding his hand

like the smell of the sun
on his sunburnt skin
laying on the sun-set sand

do you remember when
the only song you know
was his second name

and the only dance
that your feet understand
is a step with his toes

can you take me back
when the lamposts died
the other night

and i'll ask myself
why the sun shines
only on the two of you

take me back to sun screened streets
where all that mattered was
our touching feet

do you stop and wonder
why youre always so empty
but did you try to look for answers
or you just always let it be;
a storm with its quiet thunders

if you say you're happy
why do you feel just cracks
instead of smiles

pacing in the wrong places
trying to fill in those empty spaces
make your heart walk
and let the feet talk

do you intend to confuse
in order to know who's more worthy to choose?
because i refuse to be played and be used

just when your perfect time strike
and you decide who you like
if you choose him, pls say sike